


Of Sleepless Nights, Tea Kettles and Talks

by IcyPanther



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt Shiro (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Shance, Protective Lance (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron) Angst, Shiro (Voltron) Whump, Technically it is Kuron at this point in the series but it is also still Shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 03:57:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16611473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcyPanther/pseuds/IcyPanther
Summary: Insomnia strikes Lance hard. And, he discovers on his foray to the kitchen for a cup of tea, it’s struck Shiro harder. Much, much harder. And Shiro can’t hide away from the exhaustion and pain any longer.





	Of Sleepless Nights, Tea Kettles and Talks

**Author's Note:**

> **Timeline notes:** Somewhere in season five :)
> 
>  **Warning notes:** None. Excessive fluffiness?
> 
>  **Additional notes:** For Tumblr follower kiriban event with prompt: Insomnia Lance and Shiro!

 

Bleary ocean eyes blinked at the clock.

03:02 stared back.

Lance let out a muffled groan and let his head fall back on his pillow. He was so  _ tired  _ but he couldn’t sleep no matter how hard he tried. It had been a while since he’d had a bout this bad  — going on three nights now with intermittent cat naps that barely registered during the day — and all of the normal comfort and sleep attempts had been exhausted.

Ha. Exhausted.

Lance let out another groan at his own pun and pulled a second pillow over his head to smother himself.

After a few seconds the need for air won out and he pulled it away with a gasp, lying there and staring up at the dark ceiling.

Five minutes later he was still staring.

He scowled, feeling the bags pull under his eyes.

This was ridiculous. He  _ needed  _ to sleep but his body and mind were at odds with the concept. Coran had offered to let him try an Altean sleep aid but after the last time he’d tried an Altean medicine for his stomachache and ended up living next to the toilet for two days he was wary of any alien equivalent.

If this kept up though he might have to try it though. He couldn’t keep doing this. He’d been lucky that the last couple days had been quiet by Voltron standards but it was only a matter of time until something more than a Coalition meeting was the big item of the day and he couldn’t fly like this. 

He sat up, blanket falling away. 

He needed to  _ do  _ something. Lying here wasn’t helping. 

Training? No. He wasn’t Keith and training by himself with no one else knowing was dangerous in case there was an accident. Running? Ugh, no. Video games? His eyes cast to the console but he shook his head. No. The screen would just keep him up and strain his eyes.

He didn’t want to bother Hunk (again, he thought guiltily) and Red wasn’t quite the soothing balm that Blue had been. All he’d get from her was impatience about if he was tired then why did he not just sleep?

If only  _ he  _ were a giant mechanical Lion capable of just powering on and off. 

Maybe he’d get a snack? Something light, something warm. 

He nodded. Yes. Just a small snack, maybe a cup of tea if Shiro hadn’t destroyed the kettle again. A smirk twitched up his lips. Shiro had always been pretty terrible in the kitchen department but since he’d returned, Lance sobered, he had been somehow even worse. Mixing up salt and sugar, putting a plastic bowl on top the stove… it was like his mind was elsewhere and he couldn’t concentrate on the simple tasks. He’d apologize each time and Hunk would assure him over whatever mess he’d created in his attempts to assist, but it was time and again to the point it wasn’t funny anymore. 

Feeling a bit unsettled now as well as still exhausted, Lance pulled himself from bed and sunk his feet into the Blue Lion slippers he had claimed as his own, along with still the blue pajamas. He tied on the robe and shuffled out the door.

The kitchen wasn’t too far of a walk and Lance spent it in contemplative silence of trying to recall what edible things he had last seen in the fridge. Probably just reheating something of Hunk’s was safest, especially as his own head felt sluggish.

He became more alert though as the kitchen had a light on. 

Hunk?

Not bright enough to be cooking in though; it looked to just be a single light or two so the kitchen wasn’t pitch dark. Lance crept forward even though he realistically knew whoever was in there was a friend… well, unless it was Lotor. He scowled. Ugh. In that case he was going to have to aboutface and go back to bed as he wasn’t dealing with the snobby Galran prince at this hour.

He poked his head around the corner…

Shiro?

Except…

This was not the Shiro Lance was familiar with. This one was sitting hunched at the table, a cup of water between two hands and even from here Lance could make out the indents on the right side from where Shiro had clutched it too tightly. His head was bowed and there was the faintest tremble to his broad shoulders.

Lance swallowed thickly.

What did he do?

Shiro was a pretty private person in general, he wouldn’t want any of them to see him like this.

But…

But Lance knew if  _ he  _ was in Shiro’s spot he’d want someone to come over and make sure he was okay. And even if he wasn’t that concern was normally enough to chase away the worst of the sickness plaguing his own stomach.

Lance nodded, decided.

“Shiro?” he called softly, silently stepping into the room.

Shiro startled at the table and to Lance’s alarm there was a flash of purple as his right hand lit up, smokey eyes hazy and lined by bags that rivaled Lance’s own.

Lance threw his hands up, displaying open palms. “Whoa, hey, it’s just me.”

Shiro blinked and then his eyes widened and the arm powered down immediately, sending the room back into faint teals.

“L-Lance,” Shiro stuttered. He swallowed, throat bobbing. “Lance,” he said again, voice even as Lance had come to expect. “I’m sorry. You startled me.”

“No big deal,” Lance said, making his way to the table now and sliding into a chair next to Shiro. At least, he supposed, he didn’t feel as tired anymore. “You couldn’t sleep either?” he put out carefully as despite Shiro’s apparent calm Lance could see the tremble still.

“Guess you could say that,” Shiro sighed. He blinked again, as though realizing just now Lance was sitting there. Lance felt something lurch in his stomach at that  _ confusion  _ that didn’t belong anywhere on Shiro. 

“How about,” Lance nodded at Shiro’s sad looking water glass, “I make us some tea, yeah? And see what Hunk’s got in the fridge?”

“Lance, no, you don’t have to do that,” Shiro protested weakly. “You should be sleepi—”

“Can’t sleep either,” Lance interrupted, already standing back up. 

Shiro frowned but it there was something soft in his eyes. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lance waved a hand as he headed for the stove, relieved to spot the newest kettle still intact. “I just don’t sleep well sometimes. Too…” his voice lowered. “Too quiet.” 

He’d grown up in a noisy household in a bedroom crammed with two brothers and at one point his sisters as well. Even when he’d been at the Garrison he’d had Hunk’s loud snores. Being in his own room was still difficult, no matter how many months (a year? He didn’t like to think too hard on how long they’d been in space for) out it was. Music helped but not always and homesickness had been striking hard and fast the last couple nights in the quiet and darkness. 

“I’m sorry,” Shiro said quietly as though he was personally responsible for the quiet halls and Lance let out a soft hum as he filled the kettle. 

Shiro had relaxed some since Lance had arrived, flesh arm draped over the chair back —Lance could see the faintest hint of a scar peeking out from beneath the raised shirt on Shiro’s stomach from the pose and he averted his gaze— and his eyes were steadier.

He still wasn’t all right though. No one who looked the way he had was all right.

Lance took a deep breath and they quietly asked, “And you? What… what woke you up?”

He wasn’t really expecting an actual answer. As he’d noted Shiro was pretty private and had become even more so since his second escape from the Galra, shutting himself up in his room instead of sitting with the younger Paladins in the lounge and giving into his inner dork that they could sometimes pull out of him, especially if Pidge brought up anime.

Lance wasn’t honestly sure he’d seen Shiro really smile or relax since Keith had joined the Blades. 

“...A nightmare,” Shiro said softly and Lance nearly dropped the mugs he’d pulled from the cabinet at the honesty. 

“Do… do you want to talk about it?”

“I actually can’t remember it,” Shiro let out a low chuckle that didn’t sound very humorous. “I… I can’t remember a lot, recently.”

Lance’s stomach clenched. This was…

Shiro was opening up.

To him.

His hands were suddenly trembling and he set the mugs down with a low clatter on the counter. 

He couldn’t mess this up.

Lance made his way back to the table, kettle going to need some time anyways to heat, and sat back in his chair. He didn’t say anything, didn’t reach out because as much as  _ he  _ relished the contact Shiro had shifted again, shoulders curled once more, and Lance didn’t think it would be welcome.

“It’s little things,” Shiro said quietly. “Silly things. Where I put my spare gloves. The address of the Garrison. The names of the mice. And… and when  I try to remember… my head hurts.”

His metal hand rose and pressed against his forehead. 

“I… I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“Did you ask Coran?” Lance asked cautiously.

To his surprise Shiro gave a short jerk of his head. “Yeah. He had me go in a pod. It spat me right back out.” 

Lance frowned. That… that couldn’t be right. 

“He gave me some extra glornack seeds to take when it really hurts, but… but I don’t think they help anymore.”

Shiro had his head cupped in his hand now and he looked so  _ tired.  _

Too tired for just a nightmare from this evening.

“Shiro, I…” Lance paused, swallowed, and pressed on. “When was the last time you slept?  _ Really  _ slept?”

“Um…” Shiro’s brow scrunched beneath his hand. “The… the night of that Coalition meeting, I think. The one where Hunk baked those scone cakes.”

“Shiro, that was four days ago.”

Shiro blinked. “What? No. That can’t be right…” He looked at Lance. “Wasn’t… wasn’t that yesterday?”

The tea kettle whistled harshly. 

Lance’s stomach bottomed out with it.

Shiro had… forgotten four whole days?

Shiro buried his face in both of his hands and Lance got up to take the kettle off, although he set it aside, abandoning it and the mugs, and went right back to Shiro. 

Shiro  _ needed  _ to sleep. He was exhausted and it was messing even more with his head. And Lance had an idea.

“Hey,” he said, laying a hand tentatively on Shiro’s tense shoulders. “Shiro. Hey.”

“It was really four days ago?” Shiro asked, voice barely audible. 

“You need sleep, man,” Lance answered instead. “Come on, I think I can help.”

Shiro lowered his hands, lidded eyes meeting Lance’s. “Lance —”

“Please? Shiro, I’m… I’m  _ worried. _ ”

He was more than worried though. He was  _ scared  _ for Shiro. Lance knew his own bouts of insomnia weren’t good but he didn’t forget days, didn’t have massive headaches and didn’t have the weight of leader resting on his shoulders. 

Shiro didn’t often accept help because he didn’t (appear) to need it. But he needed someone now and Lance was here and more than willing. 

“Okay,” Shiro let out a heavy sigh. “Okay.”

“Follow me.”

Lance brought them to the lounge, keeping the room dark and illuminated only from the hallway opening. He strode over to the largest couch and sat down in the far corner. Shiro hesitated in the doorway, looking somehow  _ young. _

“Come here,” Lance gestured to the cushion next to him. “And take off your shoes, man. Where are your slippers?”

“... can’t remember where I left them.”

Oh.

Oops.

Still, Shiro made his way over to the couch, easing off his boots and tentatively sitting on the spot Lance had indicated. 

Lance let out a low huff. “Okay, now lie down.”

“Lie… down?”

“Head here,” Lance patted his lap. 

Even in the dark light he could make out the barest hint of a flush on Shiro’s face. “Lance that’s…”

Lance raised an eyebrow. “What, inappropriate? C’mon, man, you don’t have to be all leader and official like all the time. You used to cuddle with us all before, remember?” Lance realized as soon as the words were out that maybe, actually, Shiro didn’t remember movie night cuddle piles on the couch or the few times they’d made blanket forts and allowed Shiro in as he was apparently only six thanks to his Leap year birthday. He hurried on. “ Relax. Breathe.  _ Sleep,”  _ he said the last one more pointedly and it had been the right call as Shiro let out a sigh and angled his body horizontal on the couch.

But he hovered then, still unsure, and Lance reached out and  _ pushed  _ his head flush against his leg.

“There,” he huffed. “Now relax.”

“I really don’t know how this is going to help,” Shiro admitted quietly, shifting his shoulders some against Lance’s leg and stretching his legs out long. 

“I haven’t done anything yet, that’s why. Now.” Lance brought his fingers down into Shiro’s hair, smoothing back the white bangs first and then carded his hand through the shorter locks. 

“My mamá used to do this whenever me or my siblings had trouble sleeping or woke up from a nightmare,” Lance told him, voice pitched low as he brushed his fingers through, front to back, slow and steady.  He found himself being calmed by the motion and with each pass Shiro gradually began to untense. 

“Sometimes she’d sing,” Lance continued. “Sometimes she’d tell stories. But she’d stay until we fell asleep, just doing this. Sometimes,” he smiled, “she’d fall asleep too.”

Shiro let out a soft hum.

“She’d tell us that no matter what we’d dreamed she was always there and she and Papá would protect us.” Lance’s voice softened further, words thick but he needed to say them. “I… I know you’re our leader, Shiro, and I know you’re strong. But you don’t have to be strong all the time.  You don’t have to hide away from us. We… we want to help you too.”

“...thank you,” Shiro murmured after a pause. “I… just…” His throat bobbed. “I’m sorry. My head just… it hurts so much. All the time. I’m not trying to hide, I just… just want it to  _ stop.”  _ His voice cracked on the last word and Lance felt something in his heart break. 

Shiro was in so much pain, all the time, and they hadn’t ever noticed. 

Shiro hadn’t wanted them to though. Whatever this was he was trying to deal with it on his own. Well, no longer. They were a team and teams looked out for one another. 

Lance would not let him suffer alone any more.

“We’ll talk to Coran in the morning,” Lance promised quietly. “See if there’s something else he can recommend.”

Thank you, “ came the whispered response. 

“Try and get some sleep,” Lance said, one hand now gently massaging Shiro’s head while the other made slow strokes through his bangs. “I’ll be here. Might fall asleep on you though. I’m… I’m actually tired.”

And he meant it. It was more of an emotional exhaustion, a new guilt but relief at the same time, and with the resolve to help Shiro he could feel everything beginning to settle into that bone-deep tired feeling that preluded sleep. 

“Good night, Lance. And… and thank you.”

“Sweet dreams, Shiro.”

He managed to keep up the gentle ministrations until Shiro’s breath evened out into actual sleep, peaceful and deep.

Lance smiled and tilted his head back on the couch, eyes already shut. 

He found sweet dreams too. 

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently these fluffier pieces are getting away from me. But Shiro (technically Kuron, look, I did get a bit of that introspection piece I was talking about on Tumblr!) needs some good cuddles and TLC. Lance is a perfect choice in which to give them. Daww.
> 
> If you enjoyed the fic please do leave a comment! ♥ I really appreciate it!


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